


Winter is Coming

by RedRobotWednesdays



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Colds, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Snot, Winter, i just needed a title that, sick!fic, that's it that's the whole fic, this has nothing to do with game of thrones, was sufficiently dramatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:47:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRobotWednesdays/pseuds/RedRobotWednesdays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John doesn't like winter.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>For all those with colds, wherever ye may be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter is Coming

**Author's Note:**

> I had a nasty cold/sinus infection last week. I wrote this when I thought my cycle of snots, headaches and hell would never end.
> 
>  
> 
> Ignore my faux pas at starting a sentence with 'because'. I do what I want.
> 
>  
> 
> For the record I actually like winter.

 

 

 

John wasn't a big fan of winter as a rule. These last few years his shoulder bothers him a bit more when the temperature drops. God forbid he step into any sort of retail establishment coming up to the holidays, and not to mention the bloody weather.

 

But the main reason his trepidation rises with the rain count is Sherlock. Of course it is.

 

Sherlock's coat was huge, thick and expensive. It kept him warm 80% of the time. But there is only so much a coat can do when its occupant is splashing through puddles looking for clues.

 

“We have to follow his exact footsteps, John.”

 

And wading into ponds;

 

“She threw the watch in here!”

 

And sitting out on the fire escape at 1 in the morning;

 

“It's an experiment, John, I wasn't smoking.”

 

And climbing into fountains;

 

“I-”

 

“ _What,_ Sherlock, did you see something shiny?”

 

“ ... “

 

“Are you joking.”

 

John tried to prevent him, he really _really_ did. To stop the unstoppable Sherlock Holmes.

 

 

 

Because Sherlock Holmes with a cold was the worst possible thing.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  


 

The current virus has been plaguing him for about a week now and he is driving John _insane_. It might be his turn to start shooting the walls (and if Sherlock's head happens to be the way, well... call it euthanasia.)

 

Lestrade told them piss off the first morning Sherlock began to get red around the eyes – because he has psychic powers and actual self-preservation.

 

But it was a cruel thing to do; Sherlock regularly can be a pain in the ass. Sherlock with a cold and without a case to distract him is like someone tried to shove a Volkswagon Beetle up there. And no, that is not an exaggeration, John feels like he's living with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde but Dr Jekyll took a holiday and left John to deal with the really mean bits.

He really must remember to write something _nice_ in Greg's Christmas card this year.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 

He'd woken this morning praying it had cleared, that it was just an overnight bug and not the flu.

But then the coughing started up in the living room; a hacking, wheezing, I-dropped-my-tonsils-on-the-carpet kind of bark. And then all he prayed for was Sarah to call him in with an emergency shift.

 

When the ex-military officer couldn't put it off any longer John dressed and went out into the living room. Sherlock was a sulking lump of snot and angst on the sofa wearing two dressing gowns and with his face wrapped up in his scarf.

 

“Morning,” John ventured. It was best to tread carefully in these sorts of Shersations, anything might set him off.

 

There was no response and John took that as his cue to esca- go to the kitchen and make tea.

When he brought Sherlock a steaming mug the man just shook his head.

 

“If you're not going to eat any breakfast you need to at least have some fluids in you.”

 

“Don't want to,” came the muffled reply, the petulant tone slightly nasal.

 

“Sherlock”

 

“The steam makes my nose run more,” the (adult) detective whined. John rolled his eyes.

 

“So _blow_ your nose, but drink this, okay?”

 

The consulting lump grunted but took the mug. John's momentary triumph was quickly overshadowedwhen 15 minutes later the sniffing began.

Noisy, wet, consistent sniffles which he was doing on _purpose._ Of course he was.

 

“Sherlock.”

 

Sniff.

 

“Sherlock.”

 

Sniff.

 

“ _Sherlock_.”

 

“This is your fault!”

 

John threw a box of Kleenex at his head.

 

“I didn't go wading into St James' fountain after something sparkly did I?”

Sherlock disregarded the tissue box and sniffed, haughtily.

 

“It was for a case!”

 

“We didn't _have_ a case! We were leaving Scotland Yard after just _finishing_ a case – you can't use that line on me when I was actually there you know.”

 

Sherlock re-wrapped himself in his dressing gowns and turned his back on the room.

 

 

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

 

 

After a morning of pottering about, clearing to the side some of the kitchen experiments Sherlock would get to once he had finished sulking and cursing Lestrade to the ninth circle of hell, John asked if Sherlock wanted anything. He took 'cigarettes!' as a 'no' and went shopping.

 

When he came back the lump on the sofa hadn't moved but there were three new balled up tissues on the floor in front of him so John went about his business. Settling down with his newspaper John realised how quiet it was; no complaining, no sniffing, whinging, whining, not even the loud sulking 'silence'. It made John distinctly uneasy.

 

“Sherlock, you okay?”

 

The lump shifted, his back still to the room.

 

“No. Freezing,” muffled into the back of the couch though it was John still caught the meaning.

 

“Well, why are you just sitting there then? Go to bed.”

 

When Sherlock continued to just sit there then John sighed and heaved himself up from his chair. He went to Sherlock's room and dragged the duvet off the bed and back to the couch.

He wrapped it around his consulting detective, making a comfortable nest, and went to make tea.

The kettle was boiling when;

 

“John.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“I'm still cold.”

 

“I'm making tea now.”

 

“Forget the tea, come warm me up.”

 

Poking his head through the partition John grinned at Sherlock's own head sticking out of the nest, hair desheveled and adorable. He switched the kettle off and walked back over to him.

 

“Alright, move over then.”

 

Sherlock squeezed over to the edge of the couch while John climbed into the duvet nest and then immediately surged back into his previous position, as if John's body wasn't in the way. He curled himself bodily around him and stuffed his face into John's neck. His nose was freezing.

John rested his chin atop curly hair and relaxed back.

 

“Better?” He didn't reply and they sat for awhile in cosy silence.

 

Sherlock coughed into his shoulder.

 

“I hate when I'm sick,” he mumbled.

 

“Hmm, me too.”

 

Sherlock poked him under the ribs and squeezed closer.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Thanks for reading :) The format and sentence structure are all over the place oh my god I am only realising this now I am sorry.  
> Oh btw; 'Shersations' Sherlock - situations. It's a legit term look it up.
> 
> Anyway, I haven't posted in forever because my laptop decided to do away with itself (kamikaze style) so I was without a keyboard for longer than is humane. This isn't even my laptop - But! I'm getting a new one in December and then I'll have to get some of that 'Writer's Bum Glue' because I have about... four or five fics that need typing and polishing to be uploaded in the new year! So yay! Until then enjoy as many short fluffy/angsty/whatevery fics I can write and type in an evening.
> 
> I was thinking about opening prompts on Tumblr? Idk if anyone is interested in propositioning me but it's Redrebotwednesdays.tumblr.com if you feel like bossing me around :) okay, okay I'm done now


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